Baby on Board
by Elda Gee
Summary: Altair has a knack for messing up Malik's life. He's managed to get his brother killed, his arm amputated and now he's turned him into...a baby? Join Altair and Baby!Malik as they take on the Templars whilst trying to restore Altair's Master status and return Malik back to normal.
1. Chapter 1

1

Altair had been riding for hours and he'd be lying if he said the heat wasn't getting to him. The scorching sun was beaming down from directly above his head now, indicating that it was midday. Altair's lips were parched and he longed for some water to moisten his desiccated mouth and throat. He had consumed the last of his water supplies early in the morning before setting out to ride. Any other time he would have been more conservative with his supplies but he had been sure that he would reach the city of Jerusalem by late morning.

Altair's plans however, had been nicely interrupted by a small unit of Turkish soldiers who happened to be passing through the same area. He was unable to pass through them unnoticed due to the fact that he was riding a fairly large and noticeable beast, known as a horse, which he had no intentions of forsaking. An assassin could cut through men, but even the most skilled of assassins would not survive in the barren wasteland that was the road between Masyaf and Jerusalem without a capable stead and rations.

After easily defeating the soldiers with the element of surprise on his side, Altair had continued ahead with little time wasted. It was the fairly established Turkish encampment that really threw him off course.

There was no need to waste time and especially energy on a large fight that could be easily avoided. It would have been the act of a novice to charge into an established military campsite if the assigned mission didn't demand it. Therefore Altair had taken another path that led around the camp and back onto the main road that would lead straight to Jerusalem.

Or so Altair had assumed. The detour he took was not much of a path at all and he was forced to dismount his horse and lead it by hand as he tried to navigate across the mountain pass.

At long last Altair had managed to successfully reunite with the main road, though he had wasted a large amount of time in the process. Regardless, he was almost at his destination now as he came across a few scattered, living trees.

He would be at the gates of Jerusalem shortly and in the security of the Assassin's bureau soon after. Altair snickered at the thought. The Jerusalem bureau was now run by Malik Al-Sayf and at this point that meant anything but security. The two had not crossed paths since the fatal and tragic incident during the retrieval of the treasure which had ironically also been in Jerusalem. Altair was not looking forward to their first meeting, though he was certain Malik would be mature enough not to hinder the mission of a fellow assassin.

The city of Jerusalem was in plain view now and even Altair had to admit that the city was truly a place of beauty in the middle of this never-ending desert. As Altair approached the main gates of the city he noticed that it was heavily guarded, as he had anticipated. Jerusalem was a city of great importance to both the Muslims and Jews, meaning disputes were common. However Altair knew the increased guard was due to Salahuddin's presence in the city.

Altair mounted his horse at one of the free stables and discreetly made his way toward a group of scholars. Upon noticing Altair's presence the group made way for him to enter into their centre and in so doing, entered the city together without alerting the guards.

When Altair was certain that he was at a safe distance away from any suspecting guards, he broke away from the group of scholars and made for the rich district which was still some distance off.

He climbed a tall building located in the poor district along the way to get a better view of his surroundings. The city had changed little since his last visit which made it easier for him to navigate across the rooftops and through the streets.

The assassin's bureau was located in the rich district but Altair ran past it without stopping. His throat ached from the lack of moisture and he refused to enter the bureau, asking for water from the Dai like a common beggar. He did not need to provide Malik with even more reasons to degrade him.

The closed market was busy with merchants and customers alike. Sellers of all kinds promised to have only the best quality and cheapest prices whilst buyers ensured them that their goods were worth only half the price they advertised.

It was in such an environment that an assassin could fully make use of their skills in stealth. Altair easily swiped a few gold coins from a nearby man who was bargaining with such enthusiasm that it was embarrassing, especially since the man was dressed in such rich garments. He could do with a few less coins.

Altair purchased a bottle of water and an apple from a grocer before proceeding to leave the marketplace. He climbed atop a building and drank until his thirst was quenched. He put the apple away to eat later, he didn't feel hungry yet. After sitting a little longer and watching as the citizens of the city went about their daily activities, Altair decided it was time to pay Malik a visit and begin his assassination mission.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The entrance to the bureau from the rooftop and the initial room remained unchanged. Altair made his way across the room towards the main office where he would find the Dai. Upon entering the main room Altair noticed that some of the furniture had been updated and the room had been redecorated. The large desk behind which Malik stood working on a map however, remained the same.

"Safety and peace," Altair announced, walking to stand before the Dai. Malik visibly tightened his grip on the quill with which he was drawing before relaxing and promptly responding; "your presence here deprives me of both. What do you want?" Altair expected as much from Malik, though he had also expected to be reprimanded for his lateness. Altair chose to take an indifferent approach, ignoring the provocative statement; "Al Mualim has asked-" "asked that you perform some menial task in an effort to redeem yourself." Malik interrupted him, speaking with exerted tolerance for the fellow assassin standing before him, "so be out with it."

Altair remained unfazed, "Tell me what you can about the one they call Talal."

"It is you duty to locate and assassinate the man, Altair. Not mine."

"You'd do well to assist me." Malik wasn't going to make this easy for Altair but Altair wasn't going to react so easily either, "his death benefits the entire land."

Malik could've scoffed at that. Since when did this land matter in the slightest to Altair? "Do you deny his death benefits you as well?" he asked with forced civility. "Such things do not concern me," was Altair's reply.

"Your actions very much concern me!" Malik all but shouted. If it had not been for his actions Malik would not have parted with his beloved brother prematurely nor lost his arm, rendering him all but useless in battle and ensuring that he never achieved the rank of Master Assassin. If he could not be given such a title, why then should Altair deserve it? If his brother could no longer stand among the living, then what right did Altair have to do so? Yes, Altair's actions were very much a concern to him now, even more than they had been in the past.

Altair could not endure such talk any longer and turned to leave; "then don't help me. I'll find him myself!" Malik's anger had risen but he quickly reclaimed control over his temper. He was the Dai of an assassin bureau and it was his duty to assist his fellow brothers, even if they did not deserve the help.

Malik sighed; "Wait, wait." Upon hearing that Altair halted, "it won't do having you stumble about the city like a blind man. Better you know where to begin your search." "I'm listening," Altair replied, and he was.

"I can think of three places. South of here in the markets that line the border between the Muslim and Jewish districts, to the north near the mosque of this district, and east, in front of St. Anne's Church – close to the Bab Ariha gate," Malik explained, motioning with his remaining hand as he spoke. Altair made a mental note of all the places Malik mentioned before asking, "Is that everything?"

"It's enough to get you started, and more than you deserve," Malik replied simply, turning to take a book from the bookshelf behind him. He didn't turn back until he heard Altair leave through the rooftop thatch. Sighing he rolled up the map he had been working on after ensuring that the ink was dry and placed it on a nearby shelf. He would finish it later.

Seeing Altair again brought on a wave of memories of the incident during which he lost his baby brother. Despite having matured into a grown man, Kadar would always be his baby brother in his eyes. He'd been in his care ever since the death of their parents at which time Kadar had been just a toddler. He had promised to protect him at all costs, to protect him..!

Malik felt warm tears pricking his eyes but he would not let himself indulge in weeping. He was done mourning for the dead. His tears would not bring back his deceased brother. But perhaps something else could. Malik retrieved a worn out book with dried pages and fading ink from his topmost drawer. He then locked the front door of the assassin's bureau which functioned as a maps and calligraphy store to the public in order to blend in. Malik then proceeded to make his way to his bedroom which was located behind his office counter with the journal in hand.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Altair stood on the roof of the assassin's bureau for a moment, filling his lungs with a deep breath of fresh air. The air inside the bureau had been stifling and he was sure he would have suffocated if he had remained in the same room as Malik a minute longer. The one-armed man's hatred was practically emanating from his being with the sole intent of ending Altair's life.

He would worry about Malik later. Altair went through the list of places the Dai had mentioned in his head, mentally locating them and calculating the most efficient method to collect the information he needed. It would take him some time to run his errands and he expected to return to the bureau by nightfall. With his plan set Altair headed in the direction of the market first.

Meanwhile, Malik was busy setting up his room in order to perform a certain ritual as outlined in the old journal. He had been collecting the necessary items for a successful execution for many weeks and finally had everything in order. Using a small white chalk Malik first drew a large square then an even larger diamond over the square. In the middle he drew a circle that was large enough to still be visible when he sat inside of it.

He messed up the shapes a few times and had to clear off the chalk from the floor before starting over again. After numerous tries of drawing and erasing and re-drawing, Malik was finally satisfied with his replication of the sketch in the journal.

The instructions were written in a coded format that could only be understood if the reader possessed the appropriate legend, which Malik was able to obtain through his thorough research. He had read over the instructions numerous times but did so once more just to be sure.

He was to place each of the items he had collected at the points of the square and diamond he had drawn. There were eight points in total and Malik had an object for each. At the north most point he placed a lock of Kadar's hair which was bound in a small leather parchment.

Malik closed his eyes and held the lock of hair to his heart and let it brush over his skin one last time before settling it down. He felt as though he could almost reach out to Kadar and pull him back into his arms. He would do just that soon enough.

Next Malik proceeded to place each of the remaining seven objects on the empty seven points in no particular order. The items included Kadar's tunic, Kadar's short blade, Kadar's letters, a bucket of goat's milk, the claw of a bear, the fur skin of a rabbit and Kadar's blanket.

The final step to complete the ritual that would resurrect his brother from the dead was for Malik to sit in the middle of the circle, light four candles around himself in the direction of each corner of the square and recite the verses written in the journal.

Malik had been researching relentlessly and the moment of truth had finally come. He did as directed by the instructions and began chanting the words which were foreign to his tongue and ears.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Altair was pleased with the progression of his research. He had gone to all of the placed Malik had suggested, eavesdropped, pick pocketed and interrogated all of the right people and was returning back to the assassin's bureau earlier than he had anticipated. The sun was still out, though it was beginning its slow descent across the valley.

Upon arriving at the bureau's roof, Altair took a moment to relax and calm his nerves. Inside Malik would be waiting to berate him for some reason or another and it was better to go in prepared.

Altair did a few stretches, loosening his tired muscles before gentle gliding down into the room below. Upon entering the building Altair noticed a strange smell in the air. He thought it to be new incense that Malik had bought though the thing smelt awful.

After washing his face in the basin, Altair made his way into the main room of the bureau where he expected to find Malik still hard at work with his maps. Except the room was empty with no Malik to be seen. Altair though that he may have gone to use the restroom.

Just as Altair was about to lounge on the stack of cushions in the corner of the room he heard a sound from behind Malik's counter that attracted his attention. It was coming from the room behind the counter, the door of which was left ajar. Altair also noticed that there were faint wisps of smoke flowing through the gap in the doorway.

Curiosity aroused, Altair silently entered the room. The scene before him was greatly disturbing. Malik was sitting in the centre of what looked like a magic circle or something of the sort with a book in his hands, reciting strange words in a possessed sort of way.

Altair also noticed all of the objects, recognising the assets belonging to Kadar and identified the candles around Malik as the source of both the smoke and the wretched smell that was present in the bureau.

_Has Malik lost his mind!?_ Was Altair's first thought. He didn't quite understand what Malik was doing but sensed that it was something bad. There was an ill aura about the room that bothered Altair greatly. "Malik," Altair called out carefully, approaching the sitting man yet keeping his distance from the strange items lain about the room. Malik didn't respond or make any sign to indicate that he acknowledged Altair's presence.

Altair called out again, a little louder and harsher but again Malik did not respond but only continued his chant. Altair had to get his attention somehow and fast. The flames of the candles were moving about in motions that Altair did not like and the tone of Malik's voice was highly disconcerting at this point.

The only tools Altair was equipped with were deadly if they were to be thrown at a person. He considered aiming a throwing knife at a fairly painless area of Malik's body but something stilled his hand. He couldn't bring any more harm unto his brother after all that he had already done, despite being accidental.

Altair could use the pillow that lay on Malik's bed nearby but there was a good chance that it would catch on fire if it fell beside Malik and the last thing they needed was a burnt down assassin's bureau.

Just then Altair remembered the apple he had purchased earlier from the market. He hadn't gotten around to eating it and it still lay safe and sound in one of his pouches. He took it out carefully and twirled it in his hand. If he hit Malik's head it would surely bring him back to his senses. _Or_, Altair thought,_ I could just go over and knock him out_. Why hadn't he thought of that earlier, it was so plainly obvious that he felt incredibly stupid for not thinking of it earlier.

Altair walked closer to the markings on the floor until he was standing just at the edge of a side of one of the shapes. He made to walk over it but a force struck him and he found himself hurled backward, dropping the apple he had been holding.

Altair hit the wall of the room and fell to the ground, a sharp pain rippling through his body, emanating from his back. He got up slowly, just in time to see his apple roll over and stop at a point directly in front of Malik. Then there was a large explosion of light and smoke filled the room, making it difficult for Altair to see a thing.

It took a few moments for the smoke to clear and even then it was far too dark in the room to see anything as the candles had blown out. Altair quickly went into the main room of the bureau, found and lit a lamp before going back into Malik's room.

He carefully made his way toward the centre of the room where Malik had been sitting. Instead of finding the one-armed man, Altair found a puddle of clothing that belonged to the Dai.

And sitting atop the robes was a naked, one-armed baby.

**A/N: This is what happens when I stay up till 2-3am in the morning (I have no idea what I've written, whoo!). I can barely keep my eyes open right now so I'll hopefully review this chapter tomorrow (well technically today..). Thanks for reading 3 and goodnight (:**


	2. Chapter 2

2

First he was killed and brought back to life, magically. Now he just watched as a full-grown man turned into a helpless baby of no more than a year, _magically_. Was Altair the only person ignorant in the field of magic, because it really felt so at this point in time.

Altair had never been good at identifying his emotions. He was an assassin; a trained killer and anything that didn't increase your chances of completing an assigned task was a hindrance. Such was the case with emotions. Therefore it was no surprise that Altair couldn't quite comprehend how he felt about the current situation he was in.

He knelt down and carefully placed the lamp beside the pile of clothes. The light allowed Altair to take a better look at the mess he'd just gotten himself into. There was no denying it, the baby fast asleep before him was none other than Malik. He had jet black hair that wasn't long but wasn't short either, managing to cover a good portion of his forehead. His complexion, a dark olive tone, was just as Malik's had been. But what struck Altair the most was the scarred stump that lay in place of a left arm and hand.

Altair had never before seen the irreparable wound that he had partially been the cause of. It made him feel uncomfortable and he felt the urge to look away in both shame and an embarrassment he couldn't quite explain.

A rustling noise from outside broke Altair's trance state and he became fully aware of the vulnerability of the situation. He had suddenly become burdened with the responsibility of an infant atop his already busy schedule as an assassin trying to regain his status. Altair ran a hand through his short-cropped hair under his hood. _What am I supposed to do now?_ He thought to himself.

Just then Altair realised the true gravity of his situation. If there had been a templar standing before him in that instant, he would have torn him into pieces with his bare hands and still it would not have been enough to vent his frustration.

_I can't finish my mission._

The assassin bureau's dai had just turned into a _baby_. Who in god's name was meant to give him a feather now? Who was going to record the details of the assassination and report back of his success to the mentor? How was he to explain the sudden and oh so mysterious disappearance of Malik, _the_ Malik who loathed him and wished him dead, to the Mentor without seeming suspicious? Even if the Mentor believed his tale (a tale he wasn't too sure of himself), the rest of the brotherhood would oust him as a traitor.

No, there had to be a way to solve this, to return everything back to the way it had been. If Malik was able to turn into a baby then so to was he able to turn back into a full grown man as he had been. He just needed to figure out a way to do that...

Altair thought over the recent occurrences with extra care, his forehead creasing in the process. He had never been one to do much thinking beyond combat and it physically pained him to have to think so hard. But he was almost certain that the solution to his problem would lie within the problem itself.

_Big Malik. Ritual. Apple. Small explosion. Little Malik._ Perhaps a big explosion would result in a big Malik. Or perhaps that was just the stupidest idea he'd had to date. Altair groaned and rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands, noticing for the first time that night that he was in fact quite worn out.

He would work something out in the morning, he remembered an old teacher saying something about your mind being more active in the morning, though he wasn't sure if that rule would apply to him.

Altair breathed a tired sigh and looked back at...Malik. He really had to get used to calling the baby that. For a moment he considered simply abandoning the sleeping infant in a deserted street to become someone else's problem. If his other idea had been stupid then this one had just earned its place as the king of all that is stupid. They were brothers in arms regardless of how strained their relationship was at the present and even he had a heart contrary to others beliefs. Besides, being rid of the baby would not replace the missing dai at the Jerusalem assassin's bureau which he needed to complete his assigned task.

Malik shuffled in his sleep, his right hand gripping onto the mess of clothes that lay under and around him. Altair became suddenly conscious that he really needed to do something. He had been kneeling in the same position for a good while and had achieved nothing by doing so thus far.

Who would have known that an action as simple as standing up could solve almost all of one's problems? Altair certainly hadn't but decided he would do it more often from now on. As he stood up Altair noticed two things of critical importance to his situation.

Firstly, the symbol on the ground that he had seen upon first entering the room had completely vanished. He didn't know what that meant but figured it was probably something important. Secondly, the book. That was it, his way out of this mess. It had been what Malik read from, therefore it was clearly the cause of this havoc and would be the means to a solution.

That was if Altair could make out a single symbol that was written in the book. After picking up the book from the ground upon which it lay, Altair flipped through the pages and his hope was extinguished as fast as it was ignited. The language did not resemble any that he had ever seen before and the entire book was filled with the strange symbols.

Just as he was about to throw the book away in frustration Altair found a slip of paper whose colour varied from the other pages and was not attached to the spine of the book. Astonishingly it was in a language that he could actually understand:

"_Perhaps you shall have more luck with it than I did. _

_Darim"_

Altair recognised the name instantly. It had been the previous leader of the assassin's bureau in Jerusalem whose place Malik had taken. He had provided them with information regarding the paths within Solomon's temple the day before Altair's mission to retrieve the treasure alongside Malik and Kadar.

Finally, Altair had a lead. Darim was an old and very wise man. Altair would seek him out early the next morning and they would solve this issue together. It was his last thread of hope.

Feeling a lot less tense Altair was about to make his way to the pile of cushions in the main area of the bureau to get some rest when it occurred to him that he should probably do something about Malik. He couldn't just leave the infant stark naked on the floor, the nights were freezing in Jerusalem, some sort of compensation for the burning days Altair thought.

He placed the book on a nearby table and went back to see what he could do about Malik. He didn't exactly have any baby garments at hand and doubted that Malik would have kept any either so didn't bother to check the drawers and cupboards in the room. With no real other option Altair decided to wrap Malik up in his black robe for the time being.

Without a second thought Altair grabbed Malik, somewhat awkwardly, and just watched him for a while. The infant's skin felt so delicate and smooth to touch and Altair found his chubby cheeks, arm and legs quite amusing. He couldn't help prodding Malik's arm which was fat and squishy in comparison to his own firm, toned arms. Altair's small smile quickly turned into a frown when he sought Malik's other arm but was met instead with a small stump that he didn't dare touch more than was necessary to hold him.

Altair positioned Malik so he was able to keep hold of him with one arm before retrieving the black robe from the floor and messily spreading it out on the bed beside him. Altair then carefully placed the baby, who was still silently sleeping, in the middle of the robe and covered him up as best he could.

Before realising what he was doing, Altair found himself opening the sheets of the bed and placing the clumsily wrapped Malik on the bed. Altair had just tucked Malik into bed. Considering all that he had been through in the last 24 hours such an act would be considered fairly normal but it was far from it for Altair who was still trying to comprehend his actions.

He also began to wonder about Malik. Just how baby-like was he going to be? Since the transformation Malik had been asleep and it occurred to Altair that he didn't know if Malik would be able to talk or even walk. Perhaps he wouldn't be able to walk, he did look rather small and even Malik would need time to adjust to his new body, but surely he would be able to talk. At this point it was all guess work; he would find out the facts when Malik woke up. Now that was a scary thought. He really needed to get some rest before that happened.

It was then that Altair had his third and by far the most superior of all his previous stupid ideas. Yes, if the other had been king, then this was the God of all that is stupid. As his eyelids began to droop, Altair wondered what that would make him for going ahead with the idea.

Perhaps he would find out the next morning, but for now he lay fast asleep beside baby Malik.

**A/N: I've really got to get this story moving (so much planned, not enough written) but time, where art thou!? If any of you dear readers know how I can get more time, do share your secret because I can't seem to get enough of it lately. **

**A quick and sincere thank you to my reviewers -insert hug here- Hopefully your questions and polite requests will be answered so stay tuned ;) **


	3. Chapter 3

3

Altair woke up to the feeling of wetness along the side of his arm and bare upper chest. The last time he had awoken to a similar sensation he had found himself floating in the middle of a fairly large pond. Of course his first instinct had been to flail his arms and legs around which had made for some quality entertainment for the onlooking assassins. The pond turned out to be extremely shallow and the threat of drowning had been non-existent contrary to Altair's initial beliefs. He had been a teenager at the time and the ridicule he endured the following weeks was almost unbearable.

Altair had eventually found Abbas to have been behind the prank and had made sure to make a lasting example of what would happen to anyone who even thought to ridicule Altair ibn-La'Ahad again. Altair had been punished severely afterwards for his actions but none of his fellow assassins had ever spoken of the unfortunate pond incident again in his presence.

This time, despite his instinctive urge to react, Altair lay extremely still. His eyes flung open and he took in his surroundings. The memory of the recent events flooded back and without another thought Altair turned to look to his right. Sure enough he was met with the sight of a sleeping Malik.

Except for the disheveled sheets and robe in which Altair had wrapped him in, the infant looked to be the same as the night before. The same night during which Altair had gone ahead with his immeasurably stupid idea to sleep beside Malik, in Malik's bed, in Malik's room.

If that hadn't been enough reason to already be regretting his decision, the source of the wetness certainly was. It took Altair a moment to understand why the sheets brushing against his arm were soaking wet but after a quick sniff Altair understood all _too_ well.

"Malik!" the yell and sudden leap from the bed which resulted in Altair tripping over sheets tangled around his legs and causing him to face-plant on the floor were reflexive in their entirety. Nevertheless the ruckus was enough to disrupt Malik's deep slumber from which he awoke completely disconcerted.

Altair slowly stood up, his hand pressed against his aching forehead. He was just in time to watch Malik's large, dark eyes searching frantically about himself, his mouth opening and closing like that of an underwater fish and his body jerking in random motions.

It didn't take long for Malik's eyes to become set on the exposed stump that was the remainder of his once full left arm. Altair stood as still as a statue, his breathing almost completely stilled and all but forgetting the fact that Malik had just wet the bed, waiting to see what would happen.

Altair looked on as Malik struggled to move the stump. It was profoundly odd to him that Malik had not attempted to move any of his other, working limbs first. Yet the baby continued to struggle, his face getting redder as he tried to press the stump against the bed and push his weight up only to be met with failure each time.

At long last Malik stopped moving entirely and his eyes closed again. He stayed like that for a while and Altair began to assume that he had fallen back asleep after expending so much energy. Just as Altair was about to approach the bed to do something about the wet sheets he noticed an ever so slight change in Malik's features.

Then the change became far more evident as Malik's teary eyes opened and his lips quivered. Altair had taken the lives of many men and had witnessed their final moments during which many displayed frantic emotions and the like. But never before had Altair witnessed such raw and pure emotion being exhibited by a living being.

The intensity of the baby's grief was portrayed so vividly by the softening of his features, the gleaming tears rolling down his rounded cheeks, the uncontrollable quivering of his small, puckered lips and the short, sharp and quick inhalations that filled the room with a sound that would invoke mercy from even the harshest of men.

Something within Altair stirred and he wanted only to comfort the infant, to promise him that everything would be okay, that he would protect him from all harm despite the cost. But he was rooted to his spot by unearthly powers and could not move his leaden limbs an inch.

What he witnessed next confirmed in his mind that he had truly lost his sanity. A sudden drastic change came over Malik's features. If a person had just walked into the room and Altair had told them that the baby had been crying, they would not have believed it, of this Altair was sure.

The baby's dark eyes became bright with joy and seemed all the larger as they stared up at a point in the ceiling, whilst a truly magnificent smile adorned his face. In the next instant Malik was laughing so merrily and heartily that Altair wanted desperately to join in. The baby reached out, first with only his right arm, then with his stump also, to nothing in particular and continued laughing gleefully.

Only when Malik became quiet again did Altair dare to move. He'd had enough insanity for one morning though deep down he knew this was only the beginning of what would be a psychotic journey. Nothing with Malik could just be _normal_ for some unknown reason.

As Altair approached the infant, who was lying awake and fidgeting with the cloths around him whilst making quiet, unintelligible sounds, Malik noticed Altair for the first time and stilled completely. Altair continued until he was standing right beside Malik in order to survey the damage done and what he would do about it, paying no heed to the suddenly tense atmosphere.

Malik turned his head and stared up at Altair in deep concentration. His eyebrows furrowed and lips were set in a tight line. When Altair made to grab him a look of sheer terror came over his face and he tried his hardest to squirm away from the large figure who managed to take hold of him all the same.

"Can you – no Malik just stop. I can't hold you properly if you keep – will you just stay still?" Altair struggled to keep the baby properly positioned in his arms, like it hadn't been hard enough already having no experience with babies whatsoever. Malik's groans became louder as he tried desperately to get away from his captor whose strength was far superior to his own.

At long last Altair set Malik back down on the dry end of the bed in a sitting position and was relieved to find that Malik could manage to sit without needing his support. "Look Malik," Altair began, kneeling down so that he was at eye level with the irritated infant, "I'm not enjoying this any more than you are. I have no idea if you recognise me, and if you do, stop being such a bother. You're the one that got yourself into this mess and just had to drag me into it too. If you've also somehow lost your memory, well you probably can't even understand me since you're a baby, but, I'm Altair, and whether you like it or not we'll be stuck together for a while so just behave until I figure this out. Now, can you talk?"

It felt odd speaking to the baby but at least he had settled down and actually listened, though maybe not understood everything. After Altair finished speaking Malik continued staring at him quizzically. Altair tried to _gently_ nudge his right arm to illicit some sort of response. "Hey," Altair said just above a whisper, taking Malik's hand and moving it sideways a few times.

Malik's hand tightened around Altair's index finger clearly highlighting their differences in size. Malik's entire hand wasn't even large enough to cover Altair's finger completely. Altair watched curiously as the baby brought his finger closer to his face. In one quick movement Malik bit down hard on Altair's finger.

Altair cried out in a mixture of surprise and pain, retracting his hand instantly. Malik began to laugh as Altair glared at him and rubbed his finger. There were two small indentations on his finger, and from the bite Altair was fully aware that Malik had only two bottom teeth and they were plenty sharp to make up for all his missing ones.

"I guess your memory is fine," Altair muttered to which Malik stuck his tongue out as though affirming the truth of his statement. "Then why can't you talk?" Altair wondered aloud and even Malik seemed to ponder the question as his eyebrows furrowed again in a thoughtful way that reminded Altair of the old Malik. He would make a similar face when in deep thought during classes when they were young and when planning combat strategies when they were older.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

By the time Altair had managed to leave the bureau he was already a couple hours later than he had planned as people were slowly filling the streets and market place. He had intended to leave just before sunrise in order to navigate through the city with ease and reach his destination with little suspicion. Malik had done a superb job of obliterating that plan.

After their awkward morning introduction, Altair had proceeded to change the sheets of Malik's bed and clothe himself before searching for something appropriate to wrap Malik in anew. The sheets weren't as wet as Altair had expected but they still needed to be washed, something that he'd also have to get to later since Malik wouldn't be doing the laundry anytime soon.

It had been a bit of a struggle to wrap Malik up in a white robe as the infant was determined to stick his right arm out and wouldn't consent to having his limbs confined by a cloth. When at last Altair had managed to tie the robe up in a somewhat decent manner that Malik didn't contest to with agitated baby language which consisted mainly of 'Ahhh's', he had planned to leave but clearly Malik had other ideas.

As Altair made his way to the front entrance of the bureau Malik began to move around uncontrollably, signalling with his right hand in the opposite direction and crying out desperately. It took him a while but Altair finally figured that Malik was hungry and would not settle until he had eaten something. Something that Altair realised after Malik tried to chew off his hand.

Altair was no cook and settled on biscuits and fruit. He had never fed a baby before and the thought of it bothered him immensely. He first tried to feed Malik a date by bringing it to his mouth but Malik's lips would not budge. Instead Malik took the date from Altair's hand and proceeded to suck and chew on it himself. It was actually a relief for Altair as it seemed he wouldn't have to _baby_ Malik that much after all. That was until Malik started chocking and Altair had to get the infant to take out everything that was in his mouth.

It turned out Altair would need to keep a closer eye on Malik who didn't seem to have this baby business as mastered as he made it appear. After one of the longest breakfast's Altair had been made to endure, he was determined to leave the bureau right then and there but Malik insisted on a toilet break first.

A toilet break that involved Altair holding Malik above the hole in the ground for him to complete his needs. Of course Malik had insisted on performing this task by himself also, only to find that he would have fallen into the hole without someone else's help. There were going to be long days ahead for both Altair and Malik at this rate and neither were looking forward to it.

So at long last Altair had managed to exit the bureau with a grumpy but quiet baby Malik tucked away in his left arm. As Altair was locking the bureau door a nobleman, by the looks of the rich fabrics in which he was dressed and his large, protruding stomach that indicated wealthy meals, called out and approached Altair.

"Do not lock the door, I have business with your master," said the nobleman trying to push Altair out of the way. _My master?_ Altair thought. A small tug on the front of his robes told him exactly who his _master_ was. This was just what he needed. He had all but forgotten that Malik had been a cartographer as part of his job to blend in with the city.

"My master is ill. Come back another time," Altair said, pushing the man away from himself. "What does that matter to me? I'm here to inquire about my commission, not your master's health. Now, out of my way before I call the guards on you." This nobleman was pushing all of Altair's wrong buttons. He had already had a turbulent morning, this was just what he needed, icing on the cake.

"I shall ensure your work completed and delivered personally. You need not waste your time here," Altair slipped a few gold coins into the hand of the nobleman who muttered some threat if his work was not completed on time before walking away. "This is all your fault you know. That's another three gold pieces that you owe me," Altair muttered to Malik who rolled his eyes as Altair began pacing toward his destination.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Altair knocked on the door and called out "Safety and Peace" in a hushed manner as the person on the other side of the door inquired as to his identity. A second later the door opened and there stood the wise, old man Altair knew to be Darim. He looked a little older than before, his beard and hair scattered with grey patches and his dark brown eyes more sunken than they had been.

"Ah Altair, come in, quickly now," he said with a smile and ushered the assassin into his home, closing the door behind them. "What brings you here? Nothing of an ill nature I hope though there can be little else that plagues men such as ourselves." Both men made their way to a large living room as Darim spoke and the old man took a seat in the nearest chair, gesturing for Altair to do the same.

However Altair did not sit, "my matter is urgent, Dai." And just as Altair was about to hold Malik out for Darim to see more clearly, the old man's eyes spotted the small baby who had been mostly hidden by Altair's arm and the white robes. "Ah!" he exclaimed with a look of delight, "Altair, by Allah, a father? Never in my life would I have guessed. Bring the little one here, let me take a better look."

Altair didn't say anything but did as was asked of him, placing the baby in Darim's outstretched arms. "Why this must be the cutest baby I've ever come across. Look at those large, gray eyes. Nothing like yours Altair. His skin is darker too, and his hair very much black. There isn't an ounce of you in him, but his mother must have been truly beautiful." The old man rambled on as he propped the child upon his knees and took a good, long look at him, giving the infant wide smiles and stroking his dark hair.

"What is his name?" Darim asked playing with the baby's tiny hand in his much larger one. Altair moved over to Darim and uncovered Malik's robe, revealing the stump that lay hidden under it, "Malik."

Darim didn't look disturbed in the least but only continued to play with the baby whose cheeks had become red in a bashful way. "Yes," he said after a minute. He covered Malik's robe back up, pressed him against his side and kissed the top of his head, "I thought as much."

Before Altair could express his disbelief and ask him _how!?_ Darim asked; "have you brought the book?" "Yes," was Altair's reply as he produced the book from one of his pouches. "Let me see it," said Darim as he reached out for the book. "You will explain what is going on," Altair stated first, holding onto the book. Altair noticed that Malik seemed to be glaring at him from where he was seated on Darim's lap. He tried to find it threatening, but really, it was anything but threatening.

Darim gave a small laugh, "Altair, dear Altair. Yes, I will explain to you as much as I can make out of it myself." Altair gave Darim the book and pulled a chair to sit in front of the retired Dai who was thoughtfully flicking pages of gibberish. "Can you understand any of it?" Altair asked. He had long seized in his efforts to make heads or tails of the symbols that littered the pages of the journal.

The old man gave another of his small laughs before replying, "I have had this book in my possession for decades yet it still makes little sense to me. It is written in code, not in any language, that much I was able to figure out and had started on a legend before giving it to Malik to work with as I wasn't getting very far. I had not actually expected Malik to pay the book much attention, but thought it could distract him from the thoughts of his losses."

Darim raised the book to a page that was littered with Arabic symbols around the margin to show Altair, "It seems I have done the opposite." Altair was surprised he had not seen the page before or perhaps he had not been observant enough, but indeed he could make out the Arabic words that were written on the page and despite literature of any kind not being his strength, he understood what the old Dai had meant.

The name _Kadar_ was written numerous times around the page but Altair still did not understand why. "Can you interpret what is written on the page?" asked Altair as Darim flipped the pages of the book until he came to the back cover. "Here," Darim said and was immediately deep in thought. He would flip from the back cover to the page scattered with Kadar's name, mumbling things Altair didn't understand at times and at others praising Malik's intellect.

Altair just sat and waited until the old Dai put the book down and closed his eyes. Malik and Altair both looked at each other. Malik seemed somewhat nervous or worried whilst Altair was just restless and extremely curious by this point. "Ah, Malik," Darim sighed and opened his eyes. Altair noticed the way Malik stiffened in his spot upon hearing the old man.

Then to both of their surprise Darim enclosed Malik within his arms and gave him a long hug. When he let go of Malik there were tears in his eyes. He turned and looked at Altair; "we have much to discuss."

**A/N:** **Quick update for this story (which means my other ones have been neglected T_T) Enjoy and feel free to share your thoughts (:**


	4. Chapter 4

4

The cool breeze did wonders to calm Altair's nerves. He greedily took in another lungful of air before exhaling it all out again. If only he could be rid of all of his problems with such ease. Just the thought of all that awaited him below made him sigh. He flung himself back so that he was lying flat atop one of the highest guard towers in Jerusalem, his eyes closed but mind very much awake.

He had journeyed a total of four nights and five days from Masyaf to Jerusalem with the sole purpose of silencing the one named Talal. That had certainly gone as planned. With the exception of course that Jerusalem's Dai was now a helpless baby requiring constant attention and the fact that his target still breathed the same air as he. Yeah, things were definitely going according to plan.

Altair shifted his thoughts back to his recent meeting with Darim who was currently babysitting a sleeping Malik for him. "Isn't he absolutely precious when he's sleeping?" Darim had asked as he took the sleeping form of Malik into his arms to place him more comfortably on a bed. Altair had glanced at the baby before turning his head away and blatantly ignoring the old man's question though he secretly agreed with the man and hated that he did. Altair assured himself that he would've felt similarly toward any infant, it was just annoying that the infant had to be Malik of all people. Better than being someone like Abbas, Altair thought, shivering at the thought.

_Focus_, Altair told himself. If he wanted to clean up this mess as soon as possible (and honestly, if he didn't clean up this mess, who in their right mind would?) then he had to go through everything he knew and come up with some sort of plan. Darim had told him everything that he could put together regarding Malik's situation which had been extremely valuable information as now Altair had something to work with.

"This book," the old Dai had started, "was found in the underground catacombs of Solomon's Temple; the very place in which you sought to find the Ark of the Covenant some time ago." Neither Altair nor Darim missed the way Malik, who was still sitting in Darim's lap, went rigid upon mention of the tragic mission. Darim however, continued unperturbed, though Altair noticed the old man was now gently stroking Malik's side in a comforting way. "It is believed that this book was written by King Solomon himself and contains the secrets to his supernatural power. Why else would the king keep the book securely hidden beneath his very throne to which none other than he had access? How else could anyone explain King Solomon's power over animals, plants and elemental forces?

After the king's death the book was dug up and behold, within it the people found the language of magic and thus it was decided and agreed that the king had been a powerful magician and that his source of power lay in his book. Fear of an uproar amongst other things led the townspeople to return the original book to its resting place under the king's throne but only after several corrupted copies of its pages were made and spread. It was a time during which magicians flourished and magic was widespread. It is unknown how but shortly after its widespread re-discovery and use, magic once again became a thing of the past; an art seldom spoken of except in its condemnation and its practice remained only within the shadows. But of course most of what I just told you isn't exactly true."

"Dai!" Altair protested in annoyance; "I don't have time to waste and little patience for history lessons as it is." At this statement the old man laughed a little and shook his head; "I always thought that you had been quite fond of my history lessons as a novice, Altair." But seeing Altair's stern expression Darim returned to his serious mood and after pondering about where he had left off, continued explaining; "perhaps you may not find it important now, but there may come a day that you'll need this information to solve the riddle you now face. It is true that King Solomon commanded vast power but not through magic but through God did he achieve it as we are told in the _Quran_. What then is this book? Precisely what the people of Solomon had said it was; a book of magic. There was not just one however but several books, all containing different spells and rituals. It is also true that these books were copied, however imperfectly, and used profusely for some period.

This book," the old man moved it up and down in his hand; "is one of the last remaining of the original books. It was not written by King Solomon but by men like you and I who were taught by two angels the art of magic. It was a test for them and they were warned that no true good could ever come from its use. But man, the flawed creature that he is, is ever consumed by the lust of this world and their dark desires. Many sought to learn magic and from it came only evil and darkness that consumed the hearts of the people and corrupted their lands. For such reason did King Solomon order the collection of all documents containing knowledge pertaining to magic and ordered it all to be buried beneath his throne from which no man could do or receive harm from the cursed knowledge.

It must be clear to you now that this is indeed a powerful book and that contrary to what many would believe, magic is very real and very effective. It is however, also very restricted. For instance," and he said the following in such a grave and powerful tone that it sent a chill down Altair's spine; "magic cannot and will _never_ be able to bring back the dead to life."

Altair was openly looking at Malik now to assess his reaction, however subtle it may be. Malik shrunk away from the old Dai's harsh tone and the truth of the words he uttered. His head was hung low as in defeat and his expression was one of guilt and grief. Altair could understand why Malik would have tried to revive his brother. He too had lost a father, at the young age of eleven. His father, Umar Ibn La'Ahad, had been a Master Assassin though the title had meant little to Shihab, the uncle of Salah Al'din, who had ordered the beheading of Umar right before the eyes of all of the assassins in Masyaf. Before the eyes of a young Altair crying out for his father. The sight still haunted his nights and many times he wished he could have prevented the needless death. Altair did not want to think of the way in which Malik would have witnessed the death of his brother...

"But it can do much else as we can clearly see." Darim's voice snapped Altair's attention back to the present and he blurted out the first question that came to his mind; "but why would Malik use magic to turn himself into a baby?" Malik made some sounds as in his defence but seeing as that was getting him nowhere he resorted to staring daggers at Altair who was failing terribly at maintaining a serious look. Of course Altair just found Malik's death stare even more amusing than his attempted speech.

"Getting along as fine as ever," the old Dai commented, some of his humour returning before he made to answer Altair's question. But just then Malik began to squirm in his hold, making a mess of his makeshift robes. Darim tried to settle the infant but Malik was set on breaking free from his bounds. At last the old Dai placed Malik in a sitting position on the floor after Altair's suggestion to do so.

Altair and Darim watched as Malik shuffled completely out of the sheet so that he was stark naked and began to crawl away from the two men. Malik stumbled a few times but both Altair and Darim were impressed with the baby's ability to crawl on his own with little difficulty despite the stump that replaced his left hand. Eventually Malik stopped, sat and seemed to be busy conversing and laughing with a ghost that no one else could see, completely indifferent to the presence of his two onlookers.

"...Does he do that often?" Darim asked Altair as he continued to watch the child. Altair rubbed his temples before responding, "Yeah, he's done something similar before. I'm hoping you can explain that too while you're at it." The old man sat back in his chair and seemed to be deep in thought. After a minute he "hmm'ed" looking back at Malik who was occupied with whatever he was doing before turning back to Altair.

"Yes, I believe it all makes sense now," he said at last. "I'm definitely missing something here," Altair mumbled starting to doubt the old man's sanity. He was _old_ after all... "Then let us fill in the gaps," Darim answered, shuffling in his seat to find a more comfortable position. "It's all actually linked to the answer to the question you posed a moment ago. The answer to which is, Malik did not intend to turn himself into anything, let alone a vulnerable infant as you see him now. His intention was undoubtedly to resurrect his deceased brother. This ritual he performed however," he flipped to the page scattered with Kadar's name in the book, "was not to bring back the dead, but to 'see a dead person again'. The wording, written in what I can only presume to be an ancient language, little more than gibberish to the ignorant and a code to the knowledgeable, is very misleading due to its literal nature. It would be an understandable mistake to assume the title of the ritual to mean the resurrection of dead; alas it literally enables the person performing the ritual to _see_ the deceased person of their choice. Tell me Altair, who can see the dead?"

"No one," Altair replied instantly. "No," was Darim's answer as he shook his head, "You really didn't pay attention in any of my classes, did you?" Altair knew he probably should've felt ashamed or embarrassed but he was too curious and impatient to feel either of those things. Looking back over to Malik the old Dai answered his own question, "Babies. Babies can see the dead Altair, just as they can see angels, perhaps even Jinn but of that we are not certain. Some say it is a gift from God whereas others believe it is due to a baby's absolute purity and innocence which enables them to see beyond this world. Regardless, it is the only plausible explanation as to why this ritual turned Malik into a baby. His behaviour just now reaffirms my theory. He is playing now with none other than his brother Kadar."

This was too much for Altair to digest. _Plausible?_ He thought to himself. _How on logical Earth could such an assumption be considered plausible?_ "Dai, I mean you no disrespect but do you really expect me to believe that Malik magically turned himself into a baby, accidentally, in order to see his dead brother? Surely there's a more reasonable explanation. Oh right, I forgot to mention. I was present during the ritual and some intangible force seemed to keep me from disrupting the proceedings, but I had an apple and that rolled right in front of Malik. Maybe that somehow interfered with the ritual?" Altair was desperate now, there had to be some other explanation, another perspective to this current predicament.

But the old Dai simply shook his head and though there was a small smile on his face it did not reach his eyes. "If an object was able to enter the magic circle then the ritual had already been completed. Altair, I understand this may be difficult to come to terms with, but the sooner you understand the details of the case at hand the sooner you can formulate and apply a solution," Darim explained, rising from his chair. Altair stood also before replying; "Is there a solution then Dai? You've a better grasp on this than I; surely you know then a solution."

A small spark seemed to light up in the old man's eyes and he spoke with much more eagerness than before; "Indeed dear boy, that is what I have been pondering all this time. It is quite simple really. At first I was convinced that we would need to perform another ritual, something akin to an anti-ritual to reverse the effects of the first one, hence returning Malik to normal size. Unfortunately I was unable to find a spell of that sort in the pages of the book I have read, though I must say that there are many more which I have not yet looked at. But I understand better now the writing behind the page containing the ritual which Malik performed. From what I gather, in order to make Malik normal again, he must _truly_ and _completely_ wish not to see his brother again. Only once his heart is contented with the loss of his brother will he be able to return to his true self."

"That doesn't sound simple," Altair stated. If Malik didn't care so much about his brother and long for his return so desperately he would not have gone to such extents to attempt to bring him back to the world of the living. "You can't change his feelings for his brother," Altair said, hardly conscious that he was speaking aloud until Darim replied. "Perhaps not," Darim agreed, "but you can replace them with stronger feelings for another. That may be our only hope."

The old Dai had a valid point. If Malik was given a new purpose in life, a new reason to live without the thought of his deceased brother constantly plaguing his mind, then, if the old Dai's speculations held true, they may just be able to return Malik to normal. Kadar had always been the most important thing in Malik's life, especially after the death of both his parents. He had watched over Kadar constantly, taking on the role of a mother, father and brother. Altair had seen it as a hindrance to his assassin training but perhaps it was his training that Malik found to be the hindrance to taking care of his brother at all hours. With Kadar gone Altair could only imagine how empty Malik would feel, he tried to compare it to losing his life as an assassin, being expelled from the Order, what purpose would Altair serve then?

"What do you suggest we do, to what can we divert his attention?" Altair asked, eager to begin right away. Darim looked hesitant and just as he was about to speak a small _thump_ distracted them both. They looked to see Malik lying on the floor, fast asleep. "It'll take him some time to get used to his new body, though hopefully we'll have him back in the right size before that happens. I better take him to bed, it might be hot but he'll still get cold sleeping on the floor like that."

Darim had then proceeded to coo at the sleeping infant before taking him away. He had also refused to inform Altair as to what they could use to give Malik's life new meaning, claiming that he hadn't thought that far ahead and that he was sure Altair would be able to figure that part out.

That would explain what Altair was doing now; lying down a good six stories above the ground, trying to find the solution to this riddle to no avail. When the sun was beginning to set he decided it was time to return to Darim's home and discuss their next plan of action. After all, he still had a target to hunt and Jerusalem still needed a Dai to operate its Assassin's Bureau...


End file.
